Chapter Seventy-Five: The Undying Shall One Day Rise—The Day a Mountain Fowl Becomes a Phoenix

Zhong Ming’s face was as cold as frost. “Young Master Tian, unless you find me an eyesore, are you already harboring thoughts of framing me?”

Zhang Daozhen’s hand rested on his jade gourd, ready to act at any moment.

“It’s nothing so serious. That day, my senior brother Li Que lost his life at the mass grave, and the matter remains unresolved. After much deliberation, I thought of you—your home is nearest to the scene. Perhaps you know something.”

Tian Xingjian forced a laugh, his sharp eyes circling over Zhong Ming as if he had already discerned the truth.

“That night coincided with a corpse tide. I am but a mortal; I was only concerned with saving my own life and noticed nothing unusual.”

He cupped his hands carelessly and added, “I’m afraid I can be of no help to you, Young Master Tian.”

At this point, Tian Xingjian no longer looked at Zhong Ming. He snapped open his peach blossom fan, smiling amiably. “I was merely making conversation. No need to be so tense. Congratulations, by the way—your village has produced a prodigy. As the saying goes, a black hen has flown into a phoenix’s nest. Your rotund brother is destined for a meteoric rise, perhaps even earning the honorific of Dog Immortal Official.”

Fanning himself twice, Tian Xingjian folded his fan and cupped his hands. “I won’t disturb your celebrations any further. Farewell.”

Their conversation was laced with barbs, open and covert rivalry never ceasing. Zhong Ming had no mind to argue with him, sending him off with a frosty glare.

Tian Xingjian returned to his carriage in a few strides and beckoned Yi Chongtian over. The two slipped inside. The young maid cracked her whip, and the carriage rolled away.

Inside, the two men sat facing each other. Yi Chongtian wore a fawning smile and asked, “Uncle Tian, do you have a history with Uncle Fei and his group?”

“There is no real connection. But that Zhong Ming fellow is most intriguing. I asked him about something today, and already have my answer.”

Tian Xingjian tapped his folding fan thoughtfully.

Yi Chongtian pressed on, “Oh? Uncle Tian, may I ask what was so interesting?”

“Your uncle Li Que’s fate in that place is certainly linked to Zhong Ming. When I questioned him just now, his demeanor was most unnatural. What I can’t fathom is how, with his means, he could have killed Li Que.”

This was what puzzled Tian Xingjian most. He knew Li Que’s strength better than anyone. After three years at the border, Li Que had only just entered the Gathering Pill Realm—a realm considered elite even in Baiyu Capital. Not to mention Zhong Ming, even Yang Yanlang would only be evenly matched with Li Que. To kill Li Que was an almost impossible feat.

Yi Chongtian, unaware of Tian Xingjian’s thoughts, saw only an opportunity for merit. “Uncle Tian, if that’s the case, why not report this to Master Yu and let him handle it?”

“If Master Yu must be troubled with every little thing, then where’s the fun for me?” Tian Xingjian’s face darkened.

Yi Chongtian was quick to sense his displeasure and replied in terror, “Rest assured, Uncle Tian, I won’t say a word to anyone.”

Only then did Tian Xingjian’s face soften into a smile. He flicked open his fan and patted Yi Chongtian on the shoulder. “I hear your cultivation method is most unusual—a rare art of drawing yin to supplement yang. There’s a fine place in Wangxian City called Hongfang Pavilion. Tonight, let me take you there to advance your realm.”

“Thank you, Uncle Tian. That would be wonderful.”

“It’s settled then. Tonight we’ll get drunk at Hongfang Pavilion. I hear there are new girls there—let’s sample their charms.”

The carriage echoed with the lascivious laughter of two men.

Meanwhile, Zhong Ming watched the carriage depart, his brow deeply furrowed. Tian Xingjian’s questions about Li Que had truly unsettled him.

He didn’t even pause to ask Fei Dacheng what had happened to him, instead waving the group onward. “We shouldn’t linger. Let’s return to the village and talk there.”

The group set out, and as they passed through the city gate, they encountered Liang Yu on horseback heading into town.

With everyone accounted for, Zhong Ming felt at ease, and they all returned together to Muddy Village.

On the way, Fei Dacheng recounted what had just happened, clearing up the confusion.

Fei Dacheng had been taken by Yu Tu not to suffer flaying and torture, but because Yu Tu saw promise in his unique physique.

Fei Dacheng had been fat since childhood, almost comically so, earning him the nickname “Big Fool.” In a wealthy family, such plumpness would be nothing unusual—good food makes for a well-fed appearance. But Fei Dacheng was born amid famine, among refugees; he often went hungry, nearly starving to death several times, yet his weight never decreased.

The neighbors always said, “Big Fool is blessed; he’s destined for good fortune.”

But no one could explain it, only that his obesity was extraordinary.

To the immortals, this was something else entirely—a visible sign of great fortune, a superior fate and constitution. Even if his talents were unremarkable, his physique alone would allow him to excel on the path of cultivation.

According to Fei Dacheng: “That Dog Immortal Official said I have the Heavenly Fortune aspect, that this isn’t fat but condensed spiritual energy. If I don’t cultivate, it’s a waste of heaven’s gift, and I’ll be struck by lightning…”

At this, Fei Dacheng’s expression turned awkward, and he muttered, “The Dog Immortal Official forced me to call him master, made me bathe and change clothes at his mansion, and even serve him the tea of apprenticeship…”

“You really called him master?”

Liang Yu, leading his horse, tossed aside the reins and reached out to grab Fei Dacheng’s ear.

Fei Dacheng’s ear turned bright red, but he didn’t resist. “Blackie, Ming, you might as well kill me! I was cowardly and took him as my master. I know I was wrong. Go ahead, kill me!”

A chorus of curses erupted from the other youths. Toothless kicked Fei Dacheng, pulling at his brocade robe and scolding, “Big Fool, you heartless wretch! Have you forgotten how Ming risked his life to save us? If it weren’t for him, would you even be alive today?”

“Exactly! That Dog Immortal Official crippled Ming, and you still dare become his disciple!”

Some aimed kicks at Fei Dacheng’s rear, though none truly meant to hurt him, venting their anger through words.

Beneath the village tree, the boys quarreled in a noisy jumble. Zhong Ming frowned, then shouted, “Enough! Let him go.”

His authority was such that the others could only release Fei Dacheng, albeit grudgingly.

Fei Dacheng, covered in muddy footprints and with his robe in tatters, knelt before Zhong Ming, sobbing. “Ming, I know I was wrong. I’ll renounce that Dog Immortal Official and leave the borderlands for good.”

With a sigh, Zhong Ming felt a storm of emotions. Fei Dacheng being taken as a disciple by Baiyu Capital—by Yu Tu himself—had thrown him off balance.

He had learned much about Baiyu Capital during their stay on the frontier. Yu Tu held an exalted position, second only to Fairy Echan. Baiyu Capital had five generations of disciples: Echan and Yu Tu were first generation, city lords and pavilion masters. Their direct successors, like Zeng Li and Tian Xingjian, were second generation. Below them were disciples like Yi Chongtian—the third generation.

Further down were fourth-generation outer disciples, mostly the less talented offspring of nobility or wealthy families, and the lowest fifth-generation were mere registered helpers, menial servants.

Now that Fei Dacheng was Yu Tu’s direct disciple, he was second generation. Given Yu Tu’s standing, Fei Dacheng’s future in Baiyu Capital would not be low. If he excelled in cultivation, he might even stand equal to Tian Xingjian.

Fei Dacheng’s fortune was the envy of many—sought with prayers and offerings but rarely attained.

If not for Yu Tu’s old enmity with Zhong Ming, this would have been a great occasion, worthy of a village celebration.

After some thought, Zhong Ming pulled Fei Dacheng up. “This is a good thing, Dacheng. Stop crying.”

With these words, Fei Dacheng only cried harder, feeling all the more aggrieved. “Don’t try to comfort me, Ming. I’ll leave the borderlands. I may be a coward, but I know I can’t betray you. I won’t let you down.”

He wiped his tears and started home.

Zhong Ming clicked his tongue, grabbed him, and gently reasoned, “Dacheng, I’m telling you, this is a good thing. Think about it—if you go to Baiyu Capital, won’t you be our man on the inside? If they’re up to something, you can inform us.”

Fei Dacheng sniffled, pausing his tears, and the others scratched their heads—it made sense.

Zhong Ming pressed on, “And if you cultivate well there, you might even surpass Yu Tu and help me get revenge. At the very least, once you’re skilled, you can help unseal my dantian. Isn’t that good?”

At this, Fei Dacheng started grinning, tears still at the corners of his eyes. “Ming, you’re right!”

The others stopped scolding him, feeling a bit sheepish.

“Alright, weren’t you going to pack? Go home, gather your things, and return to the mansion. Don’t give Yu Tu cause to trouble you.”

With that, Zhong Ming patted Fei Dacheng’s shoulder, urging him home.

Fei Dacheng nodded and ran off, grinning.

By the tree, Liang Yu and the others wanted to apologize but were too embarrassed.

Knowing Liang Yu’s pride, Zhong Ming pushed him. “Go help Big Fool pack. He probably can’t manage alone.”

“Alright, I’ll go right now.” Liang Yu seized the chance and ran after Fei Dacheng.

The others said a word to Zhong Ming and followed.

Soon, laughter rang out once more—youths of Muddy Village had faced death together more times than they could count, and never held grudges over a quarrel.

Packing was a formality for Fei Dacheng—he had nothing but a few pieces of silver.

Shortly, he returned, bade Zhong Ming and the others farewell, and headed toward the city. This departure might well be a parting of worlds.

Fei Dacheng looked back at every step, reluctant to leave.

Zhong Ming couldn’t stand such partings and turned away. When Fei Dacheng finally vanished down the country lane, Liang Yu, still uneasy, mounted his horse. “Ming, I’ll escort him a ways. The road to the city isn’t short.”

Is it so far? Fei Dacheng ran back and forth several times a day, and Liang Yu had never offered before.

Zhong Ming nodded, saying nothing.

When Liang Yu rode after him and the others dispersed, Zhong Ming took a deep breath.

He walked over to Zhang Daozhen, who had been meditating in the shade, knelt on one knee, and saluted. “Master Zhang, I have a request.”

Zhang Daozhen finished his hand seal and sighed. “You want a divination for that fat lad?”

“He’s going to Baiyu Capital for study. The road is perilous. I’m worried. Please, Master, cast a fate hexagram for him—to foresee disaster and prevent misfortune.”

With that, Zhong Ming kowtowed.

He knew that divining fate cost one’s life and owed Zhang Daozhen a great debt. Even so, he had to ask.

Baiyu Capital wouldn’t remain in the borderlands forever. One day, Yu Tu would leave, and Fei Dacheng with him. When that happened, Zhong Ming would no longer be able to help. He didn’t want to have regrets: “I send my sorrow to the bright moon, carried by the wind to distant Yelang.”

If that day came, it would be too late.

Zhang Daozhen sighed. “Very well, let this old Taoist do it. What’s a few years of life anyway? Zhong Ming, if I were a hundred years younger, I’d want you as a true friend.”

Zhong Ming smiled. “If you wish it, can we not be friends despite the years?”

“Such a friendship! Three years of lifespan are a fair price!”

With that, Zhang Daozhen fell silent. He became solemn, uncorked the jade gourd, and two mysterious pills, one black and one white, floated out.

“I, Zhang Daozhen, offer three years of my life for a glimpse of the heavens!”

The pills revolved around him, and a light shone in his hollow eyes, as if stars and moon flickered in their depths.

A flash of radiance, a shudder through his body, and the pills shot back into the gourd.

Zhang Daozhen’s face was pale, and it took a while for him to recover.

“Fei Dacheng has nothing to fear. His fate is blessed, his life smooth, and beyond that, a brilliance even I cannot see through. You may rest easy.”

Zhong Ming’s face lit up with relief. “Then I am at ease. As long as Big Fool lives well, wherever he is, it matters not.”

The old Taoist forced a smile, but inside, he was in turmoil.

When he opened his heavenly eye to divine Fei Dacheng’s fate, he spoke true: Fei Dacheng’s future was that of a celestial, his destiny resplendent beyond measure.

Such a fate should be boundless—already beyond Zhang Daozhen’s comprehension. Yet atop that fate loomed a sinister face, suppressing Fei Dacheng, holding him down for a lifetime.

That person was not Yu Tu, nor Tian Xingjian, but the very Zhong Ming who worried for him now!

A celestial’s fate—suppressed by Zhong Ming. Would these two become enemies in the future?

Worried, Zhang Daozhen hesitated, unsure whether to tell Zhong Ming.

Seeing his pallor, Zhong Ming asked, “Master, did the divination drain you? Let me help you back to rest.”

Zhang Daozhen waved him off. “I can manage.”

He walked away, but after a few steps, he turned back. “Zhong Ming, you’d best keep your distance from Fei Dacheng. His fate is that of a celestial, and you’ll always belong to different worlds. Be mindful.”

“Thank you for your advice, Master.”

Zhong Ming paid his respects, unconcerned.

No matter what, as long as Big Fool lived well, so be his fate. Even if they were separated by worlds, never to meet again, he would remember this friend.

He gazed long toward Wangxian City, lost in thought.

Suddenly, a thunderous boom echoed from the southwest, like a mountain collapsing, shaking Zhong Ming so much he nearly lost his footing.

The rumble went on for a long time before fading.

Startled, Zhong Ming looked toward the Suiyun Mountains. An earthquake? Could there be a volcano in those mountains?

…

At the edge of the courtyard, Zhang Daozhen paused, listening to the rumble, fingers moving in calculation.

After a while, he couldn’t find the answer.

“How can the fortune of this borderland be so chaotic? I cannot divine it,” he murmured in astonishment.

From inside, Zhang Nianchen rushed out in panic, a small rattan chest on his back and a pill furnace in his arms, thinking it was an earthquake.

Seeing Zhang Daozhen, he grabbed him. “Master, the dragon of the earth is stirring! We must get to open ground!”

“No need. This quake won’t harm anyone. Something is coming out from underground.”

The old Taoist, with his hollow eyes, looked toward the Suiyun Mountains. Perhaps he saw things others could not.

…

In the Tian family’s rear garden,

The koi in the pond leaped out of the water, and a rock tumbled from a distant artificial mountain.

The game of chess in the pavilion was thrown into disarray. Tian Xingjian, annoyed, tossed a white stone onto the board. “A fine game, ruined by this earthquake!”

“Uncle Tian, this is a good omen. The dragon of the earth stirring means what we seek is about to reveal itself.”

Tian Xingjian paused, surprised. “The thing Yu Tu spoke of?”

Yi Chongtian rubbed his hands in delight. “Exactly. If it emerges, Baiyu Capital will take another great step forward!”

Neither cared for the chessboard now; both gazed toward the Suiyun Mountains.

…

In Baiyu Capital’s temporary residence,

The giant rabbit sprawled atop the roof, yawning, sharp teeth flashing, unfazed by the tremor.

It glanced at its master, who stood at the roof ridge, hands behind his back, gazing into the distance.

“Bonian, Yang Yanlang, you’re as slow as ever,” Yu Tu scoffed. He plucked an ice flower, blew it lightly, and icy petals drifted down into the courtyard.

…

At the edge of the Suiyun Mountains, a white steed galloped. With the earth’s rumble, the horse reared and neighed.

The black-clad girl atop the horse shouted, unable to control it, and had to dismount, landing awkwardly on her backside.

Startled by the quake, the horse bolted into the forest.

The girl reached out to chase it, but it vanished in a blink.

With her horse gone—having run a hundred miles from Wangxian City—how could she get back?

Furious, she slapped the ground. Even she could see she’d been tricked—no stream, no village in sight.

In the swirling dust, she flung her conical hat aside and cursed, “That pale-faced scholar! If I see you again, I’ll skin you alive!”

Bareheaded now, her beauty was breathtaking, eclipsing the stars and moon—like the infamous Daji, who toppled a kingdom, or Baosi, who made a king set fires for amusement.

After venting her anger, she grumbled, “Father was right. Outsiders are all bad—no good people at all. They all deserve to die!”

Her dusty, travel-worn appearance evoked pity.

Just then, ripples formed in the air beside her, as if a stone had been dropped into water.

From the ripples emerged a sword—a massive, ancient bronze blade taller than the girl—circling her as if seeking her favor.

“Go away! I don’t need you! Hmph!”

She shoved the sword aside and stood, sniffing.

The bronze sword wanted to approach but hesitated, watching from afar like an unwanted puppy.

At that moment, a brilliant radiance descended from the Suiyun Mountains, sensing the girl’s presence and slowly alighting.

She looked up, frowning. “Hide! If there’s danger, cut off his head!”

The words were for the bronze sword, which obediently vanished into the ripples.

The radiance was a flying pipa, and atop it stood a tall man—the very Feng Ning who had inscribed words upon the Immortal Stone.

On his shoulder sat little Feifei, crunching a crisp pear and curiously watching the black-clad girl. “Sister, are you lost?”